


We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do)

by Magpiie



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, References to Drugs, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-07-28 04:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpiie/pseuds/Magpiie
Summary: Laura and Sweeney are destined to drag each other through trauma, fighting each other the whole way. They meet at Narcotics Anonymous, and both of them are trying to fix the mistakes they've made in their past and build some sort of future.Self-indulgent AU shit, pls enjoy.





	1. Chapter 1

"You’re not supposed to be here," a voice said, and Sweeney glanced at the woman sat at the bar next to him. His mind had been so far away he hadn’t even noticed anyone sit down. It took a moment to recognise her - it’s not like they knew each other particularly well, and her face was turned away while she tried to get the bartender’s attention - but when he did, he winced and cursed under his breath.  
  
"Yeah, well…" He lifted his glass halfway to his lips, then huffed out a sigh and set it back on the bar. "Neither are you."  
  
—  
  
Laura hadn’t expected to see anyone she recognised at that first meeting. A part of her had been terrified of seeing someone she knew, terrified of them knowing that she was asking strangers for help because she was on the verge of losing her job to a fucking prescription drug addiction, but she’d managed to convince herself it just wouldn’t happen. So when she first saw a familiar face, she felt momentarily as if her heart had stopped.  
  
Then she realised where she recognised him from.  
  
She had seen Mad Sweeney fight live once, in Vegas. He’d won that night. Laura was never really interested in all that, but she was happy enough to tag along with Shadow for his birthday one year. It had been a good night - they drank beer and got caught up in the excitement of the crowd. A stab of hurt twisted in her chest. Goddamn, she missed that. She missed him.  
  
Shadow had liked to watch fights with friends sometimes, mostly boxing and UFC, and so she knew a little about some of the more famous fighters. Enough to be pretty sure that a few years after she had seen him fight, Sweeney had done time for some reason or another. Might have explained why he’d ended up in the same shitty little NA meeting as her. This was quite a fall from grace.  
  
For a moment their eyes met and she quickly looked away as her cheeks started to burn pink. Whoops. How long had she been staring at him? She busied herself with getting a cup of coffee that, after the first sip, she had no intention of finishing, then seated herself in one of the cheap folding chairs. When she briefly glanced back at him, he was staring blankly at the ground.  
  
He didn’t speak much during the meeting except to introduce himself (as Ciaran, which was vaguely familiar - he had been almost exclusively known by his nickname, so much so that she’d almost forgotten he had a first name like a normal person). Judging by the reactions of the others sitting around them, she was the only one who recognised him. Even if they’d known of him at some point in the past, they might not have recognised him now. He was no longer clean-shaven like he had been at the height of his career, and his distinctive stripe of red hair wasn’t so carefully styled. His posture had changed completely too, so that somehow he didn’t look nearly as tall.   
  
When it was her turn to speak, she surprised herself with how much she was willing to say. Laura Moon - ugh, no, it was officially Laura McCabe again now - had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but somehow being in this weird room with other people who had fucked up in the same way she did put her at ease.  
  
"I got into a bad place after my, uh… My marriage broke down. I guess it was doomed from the beginning," she had shrugged. "I’ve never really been good at…Healthy relationships. I guess I get bored? That’s how I would describe it. Or maybe I freak myself out and ruin things on purpose. And I did, ruin it. I mean, it was my fault. I uh-…" Her voice wavered, and she took a moment to steady her breathing. "I cheated on him." Laura paused and pursed her lips, waiting for someone to tut or shake their head, but nobody did. She exhaled. "It’s hard enough to be alone, but the guilt made it worse I guess. He was a nice guy, and he didn’t deserve that." She was silent a couple of moments. "Anyway, I just… I want to focus on my job right now." _Or they’ll fire me for falling asleep at my desk again_, she thought. The group gave her some gentle smiles in exchange for her spilling her guts, and somehow - in a small way - it helped a little.  
  
Laura hadn’t wanted it to help. She wanted to be a badass who couldn’t be helped by anybody, who looked down on people that showed up to any group whose name ended in 'Anonymous'. But she was lonely, and she always had been lonely, and the tiny crumbs of acceptance and validation she got from other addicts was like its own special high to her.  
  
—  
  
"Benzos, wasn’t it?" Sweeney asked. Ouch, what a weird way to lead the conversation. When she turned to look at him over her shoulder she half-expected him to be mocking her so that she’d go away, but his expression was bored. She cleared her throat and put on the sweetest smile she could muster.  
  
"Laura, actually." She held out a hand, and he eyed her for a couple of moments before shaking it. His hands felt so warm compared to hers. She wondered how many drinks he’d had already.  
"Can I get you anything?" came a voice, and she turned to the friendly young woman waiting expectantly behind the bar. Laura had been planning to come to this bar - one she used to come to with Shadow - and get completely and utterly fucked up, but now the thought of that was a little embarrassing. Maybe it was stupid, but when she had walked in and seen that familiar figure hunched at the bar she’d actually felt just a little less shitty.  
"Uh… Just a Coke for now. Diet." The bartender nodded and turned to fetch her order.  
"Oof…" Sweeney muttered beside her, pushing his own whiskey away and shaking his head theatrically. "Well, now you’re making me look bad."  
"Oh, shut up," Laura muttered as she paid for her drink. "Don’t worry, I’m not gonna rat you out."  
  
A silence settled on them as they each took sips of their drinks, and gradually she started to regret trying to strike up this conversation. Finally, she blurted out, "I used to come here with my ex."  
  
—  
  
For a few days after her first meeting, she tried to pretend like she hadn’t been thinking about Sweeney at all. He was a washed up fighter with a drug problem and she was trying really hard not to be into that. Wow, she really was bad at healthy relationships. Even when she found herself searching his name on YouTube in bed one night, she was trying to rationalise it to herself. She had seen that fight with Shadow, and she missed him. It brought back bittersweet memories.  
  
After the fifth or sixth video, though, she had to admit that maybe she had a bit of a fucked-up crush on her fellow addict.  
  
He was tall, and strong. In the meeting he’d mostly looked blank and a little empty, but in his fights he was intense, animalistic, eyes burning with a wild aggression that had earned him the nickname 'Mad Sweeney'. He was a sharp fighter, waiting for the other guy to make a mistake and punishing it brutally, and for a while he’d enjoyed a fairly impressive streak of wins. Laura was, as a rule, not attracted to macho types, and she didn’t particularly enjoy violence for the sake of violence. She really did not want to be as interested in this guy as she feared she might be. Not only that, from what she knew of him as a person he had been cocky and kind of an asshole, and she was pretty sure his time in prison was because of a pretty nasty bar fight.  
  
But she hadn’t chosen to look that up. Instead, she was watching him dig punches into some guy, all sweaty and bloody, and enjoying it just a little bit too much… Eventually, sanity prevailed. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she find herself obsessed with a nice doctor who attended church and loved his mother? She hurriedly closed the apps she’d had open, set her alarm for work in the morning, and tried to go to sleep.  
  
—  
  
"Oh. Well, that’s sad," he mused, and she let out a little laugh of surprise. Wow, this guy really had no filter.  
"Yeah. It is," she shrugged. He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something, but then the seconds ticked by and he stayed silent. She wasn’t really surprised, he didn’t seem like much of a talker these days. She’d seen interviews from before, and back then it seemed like a challenge to shut him up. The Sweeney of today was a different story. Just as she was trying to think of something else to say to fill the silence, he spoke.  
"I fucked up my marriage too." He stared straight ahead for a moment or two, then glanced sidelong at her. She tried to look neutral. She didn’t know he’d been married. Weird. He drained the last of his whiskey. "But I didn’t cheat on her. That would be awful."  
"Yeah, you’re a real saint," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "So what happened? You earned too much money? Your dick was too big?" She almost bit her tongue at that gross half-flirting, but he raised his eyebrow and smirked in amusement and she felt vindicated.  
"Mmm, nah. Think it was something to do with me being a junkie asshole."  
"Ooh, that’s rough. You should try Narcotics Anonymous."  
He laughed and put his glass down on the bar, and both of them gazed at it thoughtfully. Laura didn’t really feel like drinking at all anymore. She was enjoying the conversation. _Maybe because you’re a thirsty bitch trying to find a meaningful human connection in all the wrong places_, an exasperated voice in her head suggested, but she ignored it. Finally he turned to her properly.  
"So. Wanna fuck?"  
  
—  
  
Deep down, Laura was ashamed that she’d accepted that. It was far from romantic. Actually, it was downright trashy. But currently she was in his bed with his mouth between her legs, so she just couldn’t bring herself to give a shit. His arm - still fairly muscular, though certainly not like it had been - was wrapped around one of her thighs and his eyes were softly closed. She could feel his stubble against her thigh. He worked slow, and she enjoyed the view. His free hand trailed a gentle rhythm over her clit while he kissed and licked in just the right places. This wasn’t what she had expected. It was leisurely. It was casual.  
  
Actually, it was kind of nice. And not at all what she’d expected. She closed her eyes and let the sensations roll over her for a few moments, until his hand and tongue swapped places and she couldn’t stop herself before letting out a slightly-too-load moan. He simultaneously curled his fingers inside her to hit just right, and began licking and sucking gently at her clit.  
"Oh fuck," she breathed, tangling one hand in his hair and rolling her hips up against him, and when she glanced back down at him she was almost positive that he was smirking. She let out another soft moan at the sight of him and he hummed appreciatively, moving just the slightest bit faster, the slightest touch harder. As she began to writhe beneath him his grip tightened on her thigh and _damnit_, she didn’t want to think about how strong he was even as she watched the muscles in his shoulders shift with every movement he made. Her breathing was growing ragged and her moans were turning into whimpers, and just when she felt like she was about to get there he took his mouth away and crawled up her body to kiss her, hard.  
  
His fingers continued their movements, less gentle now. Her hand found the waistband of his boxers and slipped inside to wrap around him, so hot and hard for her. When she started to jerk him off, trying to match his pace, the sound he made was low and guttural like a growl. Yep, this was more what she had expected. They were starting to feel urgent, their movements less careful, gasping and groaning against each others’ lips between desperate kisses. It didn’t take long for her, and she buried her face in his neck as she came, struggling to keep her hand moving at an even pace. Not that it seemed to matter. His breaths were coming in shorter and sharper with every movement of her hand. Every so often she would squeeze just slightly, and he would make a strangled noise that couldn’t quite form into a word. After a little while she felt him tensing, and she sped up until he came with a soft groan over her hand and the inside of his boxers. She glanced up at him with a playful smirk, still panting from the exertion, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were closed tight, his expression tense, and he barely took a second to catch his breath before moving off her. He landed heavily on his back next to her and she couldn’t help but glare at him.  
  
Okay, so this was a sad hookup between two people who were clearly struggling under the weight of their oversized emotional baggage, and she wasn’t expecting a post-sex back-rub or for him to make her breakfast (or, more likely at this time of day, dinner).  
  
But still. Rude.  
  
"Where’s your bathroom?" she asked flatly. Eyes still closed, he swallowed before nodding towards the bedroom door.  
"First room on the left," he mumbled, resting his forearm over his eyes. She watched him until she was sure he was trying to ignore her, then got up from the bed, threw her shirt and underwear back on and went to use the bathroom.  
  
There was a small mirror above the sink and she peered at it while she washed her hands. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and her skin looked too pale, but in the soft light filtering through the frosted bathroom window she supposed she didn’t look too bad. It was only when she accidentally made eye contact with her own reflection that she felt a lurch in her stomach, and turned away. Sleeping with strangers from your NA meeting was probably not up there as one of the most recommended coping mechanisms. She was almost certain it wasn’t one of the 12 steps. Well, at least it had to beat drinking alone in a bar.  
  
"You have anything to eat in here?" she called over her shoulder as she found her way back to the kitchenette at the front of the small apartment, hardly expecting him to reply. The place was basic and kinda dreary, but at least it was pretty clean. She opened the refrigerator: some butter-like spread, half a packet of processed ham, a carton of orange juice. Not terrible, but nothing she really wanted. She wondered, as she closed the door again, whether she was even really hungry - or if she was just poking around the apartment to try and distract herself. Investigating other peoples’ houses had always been a secret pleasure of hers, too - Shadow once threatened to stop taking her to his friends’ parties because he would always find her snooping in some quiet room. It’s not that she meant anything malicious by it. In some way, it was like disappearing into this unfamiliar yet pleasantly domestic realm. There was some sort of comfort in it.  
  
That, and she was nosey as hell.  
  
She wandered across the living room to study a couple of framed photographs on a side table. One was of him when he was young, probably just out of high school, with a woman. His mother? Did she live in America too? His accent was still so strong, and she found herself wondering just when he had moved over. She wondered what his hometown was like. The closest she’d ever come to visiting Ireland was a weekend in Amsterdam, but she didn’t remember much of that anyway.  
  
She lifted up the second photograph. In this one he was older, wearing sunglasses and grinning at the camera. Next to him, gleeful face pressed up against him, was a little girl. She was maybe four or five, with bright blonde curls and a pair of Mickey Mouse ears on her head. It was a beautiful summer’s day, and they were at Disneyland. A lump formed in Laura’s throat, and she was about to put it back when she heard Sweeney clearing his throat in the doorway behind her.  
  
"Oh- I-" Laura stammered, head whipping up to look at him. He had gotten dressed in the same jeans and shirt he’d been wearing at the bar, but had also slung on a fleece-lined jacket.  
"Don’t have much in the way of food I’m afraid, no," he finally answered her. "I was maybe gonna go out for pizza. If you wanna come." Her mouth moved silently for a moment, and she held up the photograph.  
"Is this-?"  
"Do you want pizza?" he repeated, his voice significantly sharper. "Or not?"  
She put the frame down and held her hands up in surrender as she walked back towards the room to grab her clothes.  
"I mean… Yeah. Of course I want pizza."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So then they did get pizza.

Drunken revellers were beginning to filter into the cheap pizzeria for some hot food to last them the journey home to bed, and Sweeney was watching them between bites of his own meal. The post-drinking feed is always, as any Irishman can attest, the most delicious meal a person can enjoy. He felt weirdly jealous. Just another silly little part of life that he would likely never experience again, because he couldn't just be normal. Maybe there had been a point in the middle of all his mistakes that he could have drawn a line and turned things around. Would these people ever stand at that line in their lives? Would they know it if they reached it? His thoughts had drifted enough that he didn’t notice Laura, sitting across from him, follow his gaze to the small crowd of people ordering slices to go from the counter.

  
"You know them?" she asked quietly, wiping her fingers on a paper napkin. He glanced at her with a confused frown, then shook his head.  
"Uh, no. No." He hurriedly tore a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza free and took a large mouthful. He didn’t want to be alone exactly, which is why he hadn’t bailed yet on this uncomfortably strange situation, but he didn’t feel like talking to her. This felt too much like the meetings, and he hated the meetings. He hunched his shoulders and sank down in his seat.  
"Alright," she muttered boredly, taking a long drink from her soda and watching him over the rim of the plastic cup. He tried to ignore her staring at him for as long as possible, but finally he relented.  
"What is it?" he asked, straightening up and sighing in annoyance.  
"It’s just… Weird. Why exactly am I here? What, do you just want to fuck and eat pizza?"  
Sweeney raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Yeah. I don’t know. Why are you here?"  
"To talk? I don’t know. You haven't told me, like, anything about yourself."  
"Do you want to talk?"  
"Yes! …No." Laura paused, furrowed her brow, then turned to stare out the window into the mostly empty parking lot. "I thought maybe talking to somebody who understood would make me… not wanna get fucked up. I thought I wanted to talk about it."  
Sweeney made a short noise somewhere between a a laugh and a grunt. "Yeah, well, I don’t really wanna talk about it."

  
"No… Me neither," Laura murmured. Her gaze softened and she fell silent, and he watched her for a few moments before sitting back heavily in his seat and letting out a slow, unsteady breath. As much as he was trying to ignore the fact, he understood exactly what she meant. All he wanted was, just for a few minutes, to talk to another human being about something mundane and unimportant without constantly having to monitor himself in case he let something slip that he’d have to explain to a 'normal' person. Had he forgotten how to do that? Just to socialise with another person without doing something self-destructive, stupid or cruel?  
He scratched thoughtfully at the stubble of his beard, then leaned forward and asked, "You have any party tricks?" Laura glanced at him suspiciously, but didn’t reply. "No? Mm well, I sort of have one…" He dug in his pocket and retrieved a coin that she didn’t recognise. It was large, with a stag on the side he showed her, and he squinted at it before rolling it experimentally across his knuckles.   
The muscle memory was starting to return, and he glanced at her with a playful grin. Her shoulders relaxed. He repeated the same manipulation a couple more times, then palmed the coin, pretended to drop it into his other hand, closed the secretly empty hand into a fist. He let the hand with the coin fall subtly to his side and, in a movement entrenched with more practice than he cared to admit, he blew into the closed fist and then opened it with a theatrical flourish to reveal that the coin had, miraculously, disappeared. He resisted the urge to say 'ta-da’. For a moment or two Laura just stared at him, but then her expression cracked into a smile and his heart fluttered in relief.

  
"Okay, you do magic. That’s cool. Definitely regret the sex now."  
"Oh, pfft. That wasn’t really sex, was it?"  
"Wasn’t it?"  
"No, it was more like…" He lifted the coin to the table and spun it, then trailed his gaze up to her. "Making introductions." He broke back into that roguish grin that had gotten him so far in life (and, now that he thought about it, into so much trouble in life) and she grinned back. "Trust me, if we’d had sex… you’d know it."  
"Is that a promise?" she asked. Before he could open his mouth to answer, she slammed her hand down over the spinning coin and slid it towards her. "It’s fun to flirt, hm?" There was something wistful in that. He watched her lift the coin up close to her face. After flipping it over to study each side, she asked, "Punt?"  
"Mm. The Irish pound, back when we used pounds," he explained, slouching back in his seat. She raised her eyebrows and pouted curiously. "Before they switched to euros. That was in the… nineties? Fuck. My parents kept some. I don't know, they’re sentimental." She hummed in understanding, flipped it back over.  
There were so many threads left dangling that she wanted to tug at - about his childhood, his parents, his dumb magic tricks - but she feared he wasn’t ready to be unraveled.  
"I’ve never been to Ireland…." she murmured, before sliding the coin into her pocket. Sweeney lifted his hand and frowned, about to demand it back, but she was already on her feet, pulling a few bills out of her other pocket to cover her dinner.  
"Ah no, you can’t keep that," he started to say. His feathers seemed to be just slightly ruffled. Laura thought it was cute.  
"I won’t, it's okay. Just borrowing." She gave him a wide, mischievous smile. "See you Wednesday?" With a sigh, he held his hands up. He didn’t know if the thought of seeing her again made him excited or terrified of that next meeting.  
"Alright. See you Wednesday."

  
—

When Wednesday rolled around, Sweeney could answer that easily: he was terrified. He paced back and forth across the living room, trying to burn off some nervous energy, and tried to pay attention to the news on TV. Distractions.

He had promised he would attend these meetings. It was part of the deal. But it was only easy to do as long as he kept quiet and avoided contributing. He didn’t want to admit that he was powerless, he didn’t want to admit to his wrongdoings, he didn’t want to face up to any of it. Because he was a coward.

But now he’d opened up a sliver of himself, and he didn’t know if he trusted Laura not to tear the rest of him open.

He wasn’t ready for the meetings not to be easy.

—

Laura was stood outside when he arrived, and that gave him pause until he realised that she wasn’t just waiting around for him. She was smoking a cigarette and staring into the distance, just enjoying a quiet moment in the evening. Or maybe she was a coward too. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he strode slowly towards her and pulled a packet of tobacco out of his pocket.

  
"Well," he greeted. She looked over in surprise, smiled gently, watched him roll a cigarette. He swapped the tobacco for a lighter and lit up, then joined her in staring at nothing, trying to relax his aching shoulders. The air was nice, cool, and the world was lit with the magical glow of dusk. Somebody else might have found this situation relaxing, he thought. He felt like a cornered cat, spitting and clawing at any attempt to calm him down.   
"Here," Laura said, and he glanced down to see her holding out his coin.  
"Oh." He took a slow drag, then flicked ash into the street. "Learn any magic tricks?"  
"You know only creeps and nerds learn magic tricks, right?"  
"What?!" He took his coin, slid it into his pocket but kept his hand closed around it. Its weight and cold edges were pleasantly familiar. "That’s not true. You must have been one of those mean girls in school."  
"Oh please," she laughed shortly. "No, I wasn’t one of those girls. I wasn’t really anyone."  
"Is that why you’re a bit of a bitch? No friends when you were a kid?" he teased, though he instantly regretted it when she flinched and dropped her cigarette to stamp it out with the heel of her boot._ Idiot. Why did you say that?_ He tensed, waiting for her to turn and walk inside, but she just wrapped her coat tighter around herself.  
"Yeah, maybe," she grumbled. "You’re kind of an asshole yourself."  
"Hm, you’re not wrong. We make quite a pair. Couple of junkies chatting shite to each other."  
They stood in silence for a little while before she asked, "So. Know any other magic tricks?" He made a thoughtful humming sound as he took the final drag from his cigarette.  
"I thought magic was for creeps and nerds," he smiled, crushing the butt of his cigarette out with one foot and putting his hands in his pockets. Then he turned, took a couple of steps towards the hall. "Come on. Better get in before somebody eats all the good snacks."

  
They walked together towards the door then detached, separately making polite conversation and grabbing horrendous cups of coffee and then sitting apart. Somehow they had wordlessly agreed to pretend not to know, or really even notice, each other.

  
Laura found the words easily again, giving a couple of complaints about work but mentioning one colleague who had been especially supportive. The gentle feeling of praise she received for sharing reminded her of school, which she had once excelled at, and she wondered if she was enjoying that too much. You don’t have to be the best at Narcotics Anonymous, she reminded herself.   
When it came to Sweeney’s turn, she was surprised to see him lean forwards in his chair, thinking about what he was going to say instead of just trying to move on as quickly as possible like he had before. The room was quiet, only disrupted by the odd shuffling sound or muffled cough, until he finally cleared his throat.

  
"I’ve let a lot of people down," he began, and a few others nodded in sympathy. "And I have a lot of mistakes to fix. A lot of people to make it up to." He rubbed his hands together, eyebrows creasing together as he dragged the words together. "First… I have to make it up to my daughter. I haven’t been a dad. I’ve just been… a monster. So that’s why I’m here. For her."  
He blew out a shaky breath and sat back, forcing an uncomfortable smile as the others thanked him for sharing, then flicked a tentative glance towards Laura as the focus moved on. She was already watching him and she smiled, very softly, and nodded just ever so slightly.

  
At the end of the meeting, Laura practically had to chase him down to grab him before he left. He was already almost to his car by the time she caught up to him and, as she grew closer, a flicker of nervousness ignited in her chest. He was visibly tense and his hands were shaking, and when he turned and looked down at her it was painfully obvious to her just how big he was, so tall and wide-shouldered. His breath was heavy enough for her to hear, and his expression had lost any of the light-hearted fun they had shared earlier. She stopped in her tracks before she reached him and considered just turning back, going back inside. What had she been planning to do anyway, when she followed him out here like a little lost puppy?

  
"Yep?" he asked shortly, shifting his car keys in his hands to silence the tell-tale noise of them trembling, and staring hard at the ground. She opened her mouth to reply, failed to find an answer, closed it again. Then she hurriedly closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around him. For a painfully long few heartbeats, he stood perfectly frozen. At least he wasn’t shouting at her. Finally, he let out a very soft sound and put one heavy arm around her shoulders.  
"You did good," she said quietly, unsure, and he huffed out a breath that might have been a wince or a laugh, or maybe both.  
"Thank you," he replied, equally quiet, before removing his arm from around her. She stepped back and, before he say or do anything more, turned and headed back inside.


	3. The Glitter of Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stop acting as if tomorrow's promised  
Stop acting as if you can't be honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I've taken so long to update - real life was super busy and I was struggling to decide what direction to take this in. Stuff has calmed down and I have a good idea of what's gonna happen in the next chapter or two, so hopefully they won't take so long!
> 
> This is probably gonna veer into the angst pretty soon, just a warning. I have another madwife fic that I'm planning, just a filthy one-shot for Halloween, so keep an eye out for that too if it sounds like your kinda thing.
> 
> Also, I've made a Tumblr for fics and fandom stuff - it's over at https://more-magpiie.tumblr.com/ - so if you like the fics, maybe give it a follow.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, honeybuns!

Until the second she stepped through her front door after returning from work that day, it had been an entirely normal Friday for Laura McCabe. Work had been pleasantly boring, her short bus ride home in the dim early evening was almost enjoyable, and now she was prepared to take a hot bubble bath and binge-watch Netflix until the small hours. She was not prepared for this.

There was a silent stillness for several seconds while she stood, frozen, taking in the scene before her. Cupboards were thrown open, their contents strewn about the room, and there was broken glass glittering in the doorway to the kitchen. Slowly, she began to step slowly through each room, hugging her bag to her as she made a mental inventory of what was gone: her laptop, her few good pairs of earrings, even the jar of money she had stashed under the sink. Laura had never really been one for material possessions, and especially now had little of value in the small apartment she rented alone, but staring through the broken window above her kitchen counters made her stomach twist so hard she had to run outside to be sick.

The police had come, covered the place in their fine silver fingerprinting powder, and left when she insisted that yes, she had people coming over to take care of her, and she would be just fine. She didn’t want to admit the truth: that she couldn’t think of anyone to call. For a while she just sat in the stillness, stiff and unwelcome as if she were in a stranger’s house. It had taken her months to feel at home in this place, by herself, and now it had been gutted. Blood roared in her ears and her muscles were wound so tightly they hurt and fuck, there was one way she used to always deal with this sort of thing and a voice in her head was screaming at her to just take a couple of pills and disappear under the covers.

Instead, she found herself walking. She couldn’t remember the address exactly, but she knew the area, and she remembered which door to knock. There were lights on inside, and she could hear music playing faintly inside. It stopped, and her heart was in her throat, and then Sweeney swung the door open and leaned against the doorframe. He was wearing a pair of shorts and breathing heavily, almost panting. Sweat glistened on his face and shoulders, making little ringlets of red hair wilt into his face.   
"Oh, I’m sorry, I-" Words failed her. Laura wasn’t entirely sure what sort of face she made, but upon reading her expression he nudged the door open a little wider and pointed over his shoulder at a pull-up bar hanging from the doorway to the hall. She glanced at his face, then over his bare chest, then looked away - suddenly her words had returned, bubbling up and spilling out uncontrollably. "Somebody broke into my apartment. It’s not a great neighbourhood but I never thought this would happen, they broke a window and the whole place was trashed, they took some money and some things, and.. I’m sorry to come over like this, I guess they’re not gonna come back or anything, I just-"  
She shut up when Sweeney stepped back and nodded into the apartment, then took in a deep breath before stepping inside.

"Sounds like a pretty shite evening," he said calmly, turning to close the door, and the moment he turned back to her she had closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. Sweeney made a low noise of surprise and melted into the kiss, lifting his hands to her shoulders and letting her push him back against the door. As late evening surprises went, this one wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t sure how pleasant he was to kiss, sweaty as he was, but she was delicious - all soft lips and breathy little whines. 

It was only when her hand ran over his hip to palm at his growing hard-on that he tensed and turned his mouth away. Instantly she tried to recoil, but he held her firmly in place.  
"You’re upset," he said gently, searching her face for a couple of seconds before letting his hands fall to his sides. She stood still, gazing listlessly at the ground. "D’you wanna fuck me, or do you just wanna stop feeling bad?" After a moment of thought, she shrugged and looked up at him.  
"Well, when I got here, it was the second one," she answered coolly. "Now I guess it’s kinda both." That conjured a crooked grin from him, but he held his hands up.  
"You can stay here tonight. Don’t have to sleep with me." She stared at him, unsure, and he sighed and dropped his voice. "Not that I don’t want to. I’m trying not to be a dickhead." Laura considered this, glanced around the room, then nodded.  
"I’m not sleeping on the couch."   
"Fine," he agreed, walking past her to the small kitchen and flicking on an electric kettle. "I’ll give you the bed, because I’m a gentleman. Even though sleeping on that thing," - he paused to gesture at the small leather sofa before grabbing a couple of mugs from a cupboard - "will ruin my fuckin’ back. And even though you would sleep like a baby on it, because you’re only two feet tall." Laura rolled her eyes.  
"Oh princess," she mocked. "My heart really does bleed for you. What the fuck are you making?" 

Sweeney froze, holding a teabag above one mug.  
"Tea," he said shortly, and huffed out a breath when she raised an eyebrow out him. "Oh I’m sorry, did her majesty want a beer? Maybe a joint?"   
"Alright, alright… Just didn’t really have you down as a tea drinker. What is it? Green tea? Oolong?"   
"No, for fuck’s sake. Breakfast tea, milk and two sugars."  
"Oh, English tea?" she nodded, laughing when he shot her a bristling look of annoyance over his shoulder.  
"Want it or not?"  
"Yes, I do, please," Laura relented. Then, glancing away, "Thanks." 

He made her comfortable on the couch with her cup of tea, even fetched her a fluffy little blanket and some comfortable clothes - she’d had the presence of mind to throw her phone, keys and toothbrush into a bag before she left her apartment, but that was about it. They utterly swamped her, the grey sweatpants and heavily faded Rolling Stones t-shirt, but they were soft and warm. Somehow, it made her feel a little safer.  
"I really gotta shower," Sweeney muttered, turning the TV on and opening up Netflix before handing her the remote. Although the apartment itself was fairly modest, many of its furnishings were pretty high-end - relics from a previous life, she supposed - and the large smart TV was no exception. The list of recently watched shows loaded first, and she flicked through curiously.   
"Oh, you’re a big fan of Paw Patrol too, huh?" Laura asked, glancing quizzically over her shoulder for some explanation for the history of animated movies and kids cartoons - only to see Sweeney wince and sigh. He didn’t say anything for so long that she felt a little awkward and turned away to start browsing sitcoms instead of pressing the matter. Eventually, he spoke up quietly behind her.  
"I don’t see my daughter very often…" he began, and a heavy ball of guilt landed in Laura’s gut. Of course, the one time someone was nice enough to do something like this for her, she had to find some way to make the situation uncomfortable. She was just about to open her mouth to apologise when he added, "I like to have things for us to talk about. Good to know what she likes."   
"Oh… That’s nice," she said softly, casting him a small smile over her shoulder, and he pursed his lips and nodded.  
"Maybe. But Paw Patrol is truly. Fucking. Awful."

He rejoined her after his shower, and the two sat together watching episodes of old sitcoms and talking about nothing in particular until midnight had been and gone. When Laura finally had to admit to herself that she could barely keep her eyes open and stood up to go to bed she found herself lingering by the door to the dark hallway, reluctantly watching him trying to pretend to get comfortable on a couch that was too small for him to sleep on by far. There was a dread in her chest like a little girl scared of the dark, and she cleared her throat and raised her chin.  
"You don’t have to sleep there," she said matter-of-factly. He’d been trying to position his pillow to soften the stiff edge on the arm of the seat, and now flopped back against it and considered her for a moment, legs dangling ungracefully over the other arm.  
"I dunno," he shrugged, folding his hands behind his back. "Pretty comfortable now." Laura raised one eyebrow and snorted out a laugh.  
"I’m not gonna offer again," she shrugged, as if that wasn’t an outright lie. As if she wouldn’t resort to begging.  
"Alright, alright, if you insist."

Once he’d lain down next to her, she made no effort to keep a polite distance or maintain an air of cool aloofness and instead curled up around him, head tucked into his shoulder and cool, slender arm draped over his chest. He stiffened for a moment, then wrapped one hand around her and lifted the other to comb his fingers through her silk-soft hair. A soft rain began to patter against the window as her breathing grew soft and slow, and Sweeney sat awake with that sweet, soft, stupid little asshole all wrapped up in his protective grasp. Sleep never came easily to him - least of all tonight, mind roiling with the feelings dredged up by this unbidden affection. Eventually, after one final glance at her, he let his eyes flutter closed and muttered into the dark stillness,  
"Fuck."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for my very erratic uploads. Next chapter is in the works as we speak, so hopefully you won't be waiting so long next time hahaaaa.
> 
> Warning to the less trashy amongst us: this chapter is almost entirely smut. As Demi Lovato once said, "I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)". It's to prepare you for the next chapter being almost entirely angst. :) (And partly because I know exactly what's happening in the next chapter and was struggling to get there so I had to find away to keep myself interested lmao)
> 
> Just a random note - this chapter felt sort of out of character to write, and honestly... I think it's just because this AU is so different from canon. The characters we know from canon are both in really shitty places. Sweeney has essentially given up, and Laura is so confused about what she wants and how to get it that she lashes out at everyone. Here, they're clearly broken, but they have enough hope to try and mend and improve. Canon Sweeney probably more heavily aligns with Sweeney pre-recovery in this story, so his behaviour in the fic is I guess what I would hope from a happier lil leprechaun. 
> 
> Anyway, the takeaway is this: if the character voices are throwing you off but you don't hate my writing, please check out my other fics - you'll probably like the stuff on my Tumblr too (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/more-magpiie) tho it's not 100% MadWife. (Promise this is the last plug).
> 
> Thank youuuuu for all your kudos and nice comments so far, I hope you enjoy this chapter (and that the next one ruins you <3).

By the time Sweeney woke up they had practically swapped positions, and he tensed in surprise when he felt an arm curved around his back and soft fingertips combing through his hair.  
"Sorry, sorry- That was-" Laura held her hands up and when he lifted himself onto one forearm and looked up at her, there was just a hint of a blush rising on her cheeks. His gaze raked over her, drinking in the sight of her mussed hair framing her face, her shy gaze under her eyelashes, the subtle shape of her breasts under his T-shirt. "I can see you, you know. Checking me out," she laughed. "You’re not subtle."  
"Not trying to be," he replied, voice still low and heavy with sleep, before ducking his head to trail soft kisses across her neck. She let him lavish with her affection, for a while - sighed softly at his lips at her jaw and his hand slipping under her shirt - before pushing gently at his shoulder.   
"I want to thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don’t have to. But…" Her lips moved to his ear, partly because she was sure she wouldn’t have the guts to be so forward if she had to look him in the eye. "I was thinking all morning about how much I’d love to suck your dick… So… Maybe you should let me."  
He sucked in a deep breath, and didn't argue.  
  
Laura was determined to take her time. She pulled his sweatpants down just far enough to free his cock, already so hard for her, then ran her hand lightly up and down his length. He let out a low moan when she ran her tongue around his swollen head and she couldn’t help but smirk. She loved to tease. It didn’t just turn her on, it made her feel powerful, sexy - in control. Every time she had just gotten into the rhythm of some action, could hear him relaxing into it, she moved to kiss and suck and pleasure him some other way until he was breathy and twitching at every touch.   
"Laura, I swear, I’m gonna fucking die," he choked out finally, and that satisfied her - she took as of him as she could manage into her mouth and he groaned, hands moving to tangle in her hair as she settled into a quick pace, moaning out needy little noises so that her lips hummed around his length.  
  
His thighs were just beginning to tense under her fingers and she was sure that he was close when a tinny ringtone started blaring loud from his bedside table.  
"Ahh- Shit, shit-" He pushed her back, gentle but hurried, and practically jumped across the bed to grab his phone. She could do nothing but watch him as he left the room with it pressed to his ear, decisively closing the door behind him. Now her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and her lips were still tingling from the friction against his dick, and she was panting and wet with excitement and all by herself. It took a moment for her to collect herself, and then she slowly climbed out of the bed and got dressed in the clothes she’d left hastily folded on the chair in the corner the night before. She took her time, straining to hear the muffled conversation in the hallway, and was just raking her fingers through her hair in the mirror when the door quietly reopened.  
  
"Oh, uh…" he stumbled, clearly not expecting to see her in such a rush to leave. Laura froze, cringing in the awkward silence. "I’m sorry about that," he said finally, before sighing wearily. "I realise how that… looked."  
She twisted her hands in her sleeves, watching him uncomfortably try and salvage the situation.  
"I get it," she said - too quickly, trying to shrug as casually as possible.   
"No, you don’t. I don’t want you to think… Things are just complicated right now."  
"Yeah, no shit," she replied softly, and he let out a shaky chuckle.  
"I’m just trying to say I like you," he finally said, words rushing out like he had to say them before he could stop himself. "And I don’t want you to think I don’t enjoy spending time with you, it’s just- I can’t miss those calls." He lifted a hand to rub his eyes. "I see Meabh next week and I don’t want her mother to cancel because she can’t get hold of me, and thinks-" Laura quietly closed the distance between him and rested her hands on his shoulders.  
"I get it."  
  
  
After a quick cup of coffee and a shared plate of eggs and bacon, he drove her home - then made her wait in the car while he swept up the broken glass and put things back in order. When he finally let her back inside, the dread wrapped tight around her chest seemed to have loosened a little. At least things looked relatively normal again. He called someone about the window and, as he was leaving, offered her his number - "So you don’t have to show up on my doorstep next time." She sent him a text so he could contact her too, told him to let her know all about his day out with Meabh, then rocked up onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek as he turned to step out the door. He had whirled back around and kissed her properly, one hand on her neck, one hand on her waist, and she had felt like the star of some romantic movie and everything was just _good_. The storm clouds were starting to clear and the world was glowing with promise.  
  
When her phone buzzed with a message that night, she couldn’t hold back her smile. It was juvenile and silly, she knew, but it was fun. For the first time since Shadow had told her it was over, she was actually excited about something.  
'Damnit, I can’t sleep,' said the first message. That made her check the clock - just gone midnight. She’d gotten engrossed in some crappy reality show and somehow, the hours had just ticked by. Now, she sat up straight and set her half-empty bowl of popcorn onto the table, wondering what to reply. She didn't have to wonder for long. 'Can’t stop thinking about your mouth'.  
  
A surprised laugh escaped her and she sunk back into the seat, chewing on her lip as she carefully constructed her reply.  
'Shame we got interrupted - I was having fun'  
She changed her mind about the popcorn, set the bowl back down next to her on the couch and started picking at it while she waited for his messages.  
'That makes two of us,' he replied. And then, 'Don’t worry - already planning next time'  
'Oh?'  
'Next time is your turn, and I have some ideas'  
Laura swallowed, feeling her heartbeat start to pick up.  
'Details'  
'First I want to see how wet I can get you without touching your pussy'  
'Doing a pretty good job so far'  
'Fuck,' was his almost immediate reply and she laughed again, this time breathless and blushing, unfastening her jeans and letting her fingers slip inside her panties. 'Then when you’re ready, I’ll use my mouth to get you off - over and over, until your whole body is shaking.' He waited for a response for a few moments, then - 'Are you touching yourself?'  
'Yes. You?'  
'The whole time'  
She bucked into her hand almost involuntarily.  
'Then?'  
'Then when you're begging, I fuck you.' Laura let her eyes slide closed and dropped her phone at her side somewhere to slip her free hand under her shirt, panting and writhing at her own touch until she came hard, shuddering with the release. She had a couple of minutes to catch her breath before her phone buzzed again. 'Did you get off?' Her reply was just a winking emoji. 'Wish I could have seen it.'   
'Next time xo'   
  
Their messages over the following days were far more mundane, just trading little tidbits about their day, but she was still shamelessly excited at every notification. It had been something to talk to the girls at work about, too - Laura was never so great at collecting female friends, but these ladies seemed thrilled to gossip about guys they were texting, and it felt pleasantly boring to gossip along with them. Wednesday was the day he had arranged to take his daughter for the day and Laura sent a quick text that morning, telling him to have fun and tell her all about it at the meeting that night. 'Of course,' he’d replied.  
  
When he didn’t show by the time the meeting started that night, Laura told herself he must have just been held up. She kept her phone in her hands, waiting for a message to say he was late, that he was on his way. But as the minutes dragged on, a heavy unease began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She struggled to pay attention to anyone else, and declined to speak herself when her turn came - she couldn’t. Her attention was elsewhere.  
  
The second the meeting was done she stormed out into the cool night air, dialled his number, and listened to the phone ring on and on. She hung up, tried again. No answer. Her breath was getting short. Stop overreacting, she told herself. Stop stop stop. 'Missed you tonight, let me know what’s going on.' She stared at her phone, willing a reply to appear, until people started to filter out of the building behind her. Finally, admitting defeat, she headed home.

She had weighed it up for a long time, whether to wait for a response or whether to just show up on his doorstep. If he was still with his family, she doubted he would really want her to just show up out of the blue. But he was supposed to show up to the meetings - he could have just messaged her, right? It would be normal to check up on him, as a friend, wouldn’t it? Eventually, with the clock getting ready to roll over into the small hours and still no word of reply, she pulled on a coat and headed out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🙃🙃🙃

When she arrived there were lights glowing inside, and she felt almost dizzy with relief to find - at least - that somebody was home. She listened at the door for a moment and, hearing no other voices, raised her fist to knock at the door. It gave away at the second rap, gently clicking open and swinging open just a little. Not locked? Barely even closed.  
"Hello?" she called. Nothing answered her but the sound of the TV, chattering idly to itself. She swallowed the lump in her throat, pushed the door open all the way, and called out again: "Hello?"  
  
It was then she noticed it - a faint trail of red splatters on the carpet. Her heart plummeted into her gut. She quietly pushed the door closed behind her and followed it to the couch. That’s where she found him: sprawled haphazardly on his back, eyes shut, face bruised and bloody, still as a fucking corpse.  
"No no no, don’t you _dare_." She scrambled to kneel in front of him, frantically shook his arm as she wrestled her phone out of her pocket. Hot, angry tears were already spilling over her cheeks. Between that and her trembling hands she struggled just to unlock the damn thing, and was halfway through dialling 911 when a hand covered hers.  
"Don’t," he said thickly.   
"What the fuck- What-" Laura dropped her phone, instead lifted her hands gingerly to touch the hideous swelling on his right cheekbone. "What the fuck did you do?" Her voice was a sob, and brought fresh tears with it. He barely reacted to her touch, just let out a shuddering breath.   
"Gotta… Throw up…" he groaned, every word seemingly costing more energy than he could muster, and she climbed unsteadily to her feet.   
"Can you stand?" No response. She almost tripped over herself as she ran to the kitchen, emptying cabinets until she found a bucket to set next to him. "Come on, come on," he muttered, pulling at his shoulder until he rolled over just far enough to retch into it. Laura forced herself to watch the pitiful scene in front of her until she was positive he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit, then buried her face in her hands. "Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking mad at you."  
  
For a while his only movement was the occasional spasm of sickness, and eventually that stilled too. She found herself staring at the unsteady rise and fall of his chest until her body was too tired to be tense anymore, at which point she fetched a damp facecloth and began gently clearing the blood off his face. When she finished she reached for his hands, but was confused and more than little relieved to his knuckles clean and unbruised.   
"What happened, huh?" she asked under her breath, carefully dabbing at a spot of blood she’d missed in his beard and letting out a shaking sigh.  
  
After wrapping the duvet from the bed around him as best she could and turning the TV off, Laura curled up with a blanket in an armchair across from him and tried to doze. She supposed she must have slept in bits and pieces, but it felt as if she’d spent the entire night watching him, trying to reconcile this grim image of him with the man who’d laughed and smiled with her days ago. The man who had, less than a week ago, been trying to assure her that she could rely on him. She felt stupid. She had, for the first time, let somebody get close to her without fighting them every step of the way. Her desperate need for care and validation had outweighed her general distrust of anyone besides herself, and she’d thrown herself into this stupid situation, somehow believing that they could share some sweet moments and enjoy a happily ever after. This was her punishment.   
  
Finally she gave up on sleep and, with the blanket still draped around her shoulders, sat at the small dining table with a cup of instant coffee and scrolled mindlessly through her phone. It took another hour or so for him to rouse. Her grip tightened around the handle of her mug as he slowly sat up, dragged in a deep breath, pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.  
"Good morning," she said flatly and he jumped in surprise, head whipping around. The second he saw that it was her, his eyes slid shut and he cursed under his breath. "Care to tell me what the fuck happened?" He turned back around and quietly surveyed the scene around him.  
"You do all this?"  
"Yes."   
  
He stood unsurely and walked to the freezer, wrapped a few ice cubes up in a kitchen towel and sat down across from her with the bundle pressed against his face.  
"I’m sorry," he said finally, staring down at the table between them. "I fucked up."  
"Not good enough. I think I deserve a real explanation." He glanced up at her darkly, then turned to stare out of the small window above the kitchen sink.  
"I got a call from my brother yesterday," he began, voice flat and matter-of-fact. "My mother was sick for a long time. I put off going home until everything here was… better. Anyway, she died." He paused to lick his lips, winced as his tongue ran over the place where his lower lip was split. Laura’s expression had creased with sympathy but her shoulders were still hunched with anger. "I went to a bar. Got into an argument. Then I guess I bought some ketamine. The rest is hazy."   
"Look, I’m sorry, that’s… Awful. But what about being there for your daughter? Did you think about her at all?"  
"Oh right. They’re moving. To Canada." He shifted awkwardly in his seat, grimacing and lifting his free hand to press against his ribs. "I can’t go. I… did some time, and-"  
"Yeah, I know." He turned back to her and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I know who you are. I didn’t say anything because you seemed nice, but yeah, I recognised you. I actually thought you were getting your shit together, but now I don’t know what to think. What, were you trying to wind up back in prison? Get yourself killed?" His nonchalant shrug flared her temper. "I could have helped! Why didn’t you call me?"  
"I’m not your responsibility to-"  
"Fuck you!" Tears were forming in her eyes again, which only served to further fuel her anger. "I decide that, not you. That’s not fair."  
"You’re going through your own shit," he answered, his voice rising too. "I don’t want to be a burden on you." At that she laughed, half hysterical, and shook her head in disbelief.  
  
"You think one phone call is a burden? More than watching you fucking die? If I’d got here later- If I-" She couldn’t stop herself from crying now and stood up, furious and shaking. "You know what? Don’t worry about it. I won’t stop you next time." She moved to leave, but he caught her wrist as she passed him, and she whirled back prepared to keep arguing but the words caught in her throat.  
"I’m sorry," he said quietly over his shoulder, letting go of her wrist. "I didn’t ask you for help before. I’m asking now."   
"Asshole," she muttered, but she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He melted into her embrace. Her fingers trailed through his hair, then pressed softly into the bruises across his face. "You took quite a beating, huh? You forget how to fight?"  
"I didn’t want to fight," he replied, voice muffled against her. "Just wanted…"  
"To suffer?" she offered, smiling bitterly. He responded with a gruff noise of agreement. "Go sit on the couch. I’ll make tea."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Like Real People Do, by Hozier.
> 
> [[ I had a thought, dear  
However scary  
About that night  
The bugs and the dirt  
Why were you digging?  
What did you bury  
Before those hands pulled me  
From the earth?
> 
> I will not ask you where you came from  
I will not ask you, neither should you
> 
> Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips  
We should just kiss like real people do ]]


End file.
